Phlogiston
by 0xPockyx0
Summary: Michael Sara. Cause they're hot. Lemony goodness, but TASTEFUL Lemons. Several of them. Mid season 2 ish, please see authors notes on each chapter! I write the kind of fanfics that I would want to read...
1. Chapter 1

**Ridiculously long Author's Note: **

_**Im just inspired to write about MiSa suddenly, have never posted any of my PB dabblings aside from one that I never finished, which was more of less a rather cliffhangy starter chapter to my alternate of season 3. The rage/betrayal sex theme of so many season two replacements made me want to have a go. Lemons brewing for sure, so rating this "M" with that in mind. Cant seem to avoid a slight humor leaking in though. Apologise for any OOCness, not intended but... it is fanfiction. IDRC "bout mai speelings". I have no beta tester.  
**_**  
**_**Set after season one... a little into season two kind of, stealing little bits of it ish. Basically, Sara has recovered, no kellerman storyline "lance" AA stalking, Not even sure if kellerman will exist as any sort of feature at this point, everything up to bellick mentioning sara's OD has happened in michaels verse. Only the first origami bird has been recieved by sara, with the "theres a plan to make all this right" but no others. Ill try cover things a bit to explain IDK yet.**_

**Please review, I know its a pain, and everyone says please review but even "This story: Thumbs up" can make my day sometimes, and any negatives or suggestions can prompt me to think of something new. I WRITE WEIRD, like it or lump it, just tell me which for my amusement.**

**Chapter One: Bliss**

_Her heart pounded in her stomach. Why people described this feeling as "butterflies" she never understood. An enraged cat chasing a fly that isnt even on the same side of the window... An avalanche of lead-weighted tumbleweeds... flying-lead-cats-fighting-window-sheilded-tumbleweeds... SHUT UP he's still talking...  
_

_"_It was real Sara..." he breathed ... "You and me... It was real..."  
"Michael? MICHAEL?" she demanded of the small click, struggling to survive in the flames of the dial-tone.

Striding with both purpose and a loathing for every dust square of cement crushed beneath her she headed back to her apartment. The brick of technology that enabled the flame to reach her thrown unceremoniously into hand-bag-oblivion. What had become a monotonous background of thought was empowered once more. A deafening blur of heat. For fire consumes all. _He_ was the flame, the heat of anger and desire locked in a forbidden dance, burning all he touched, burning _her_ with his touch... A paradox. The overwhelming sense that so many emotions, thoughts and feelings cannot be tied to one thing, an impossibilty. How can you hate someone so much, yet writhe with wanting in dark whispered dreams. How can you have so many questions yet be unsure of the probability of an answer even _existing_ to be spoken or heard. How...  
Like a mantra she ran through what she thought of as an infection... filed as a disease in her neat box of doctor's information. A way of coping. Autonomously she returned home, scanned mail, heated dinner. Routine helped. Lying sleepless in the incomplete darkness of the city a conclusion was reached.

She was mad.  
Not angry mad... _well yes angry mad too but_... crazy mad. Like that obscure relative at a wedding insisting shoe polish was the failed result of government drug testing that miraculously had another use. She was insane. _Possibly _just mentally ill, but for all intents and purposes stark raving. This was very comforting for some reason. It cut the edges of the puzzle so they fit, a cheat allowing her to fall into heated dreams that could be conveiniantly forgotten the next day. Peace at last.

...

She remembered the feeling of morphine... the high... the blurred clarity of it all...

She was mad wasnt she? The levels of thought, concious, subconcious, the part that registers what your saying a split second before you say it but too late to stop it happening... They can all be simplified. Now, they could be the voices. The voice that just gets on with bodily functions. The voice that irrevocably decides everything is an overreaction. That little one in the back that clings to songs by ABBA, or the can-can, with a maliciousness akin to storybook tyrants. As it turns out, ignorance, morphine, and battyness are _ALL_ bliss. She stalked the aisles of the nearest supermarket a fortnight later, the voice seemingly overseeing but able to do nothing shook its head in embarrasment of the current mental stage show. It was something along the lines of replacing dull supermarket music with lyrics self-affirming her decision to be crazy. Humming off tune, critiqueing an orange, the mental chorus of her re-written Michael Jackson's "Im mad! Im mad! and I know it!" came to a screeching halt as she stared in shock.

It was a battery display stand!

Grabbing a few more random items she made her way to the checkout. Managing a benign smile at the assistant who was clearly sucking on the ive-been-told-to-improve-my-customer-service lemon. _Definitly batteries... you know rechargeables... the little watch kind... not him. NOT HIM. At most, someone who looked like him. No. No one. Batteries._

Swallowing a giggle that tasted rather hysterical she made her way home. There was always the part that didnt conform to her insanity plea. The one that recognised pre-meditation. Acknowledged feelings, good and bad. Her irrational rationalisations had sprung a leak.

...

_Michael sat in wait in her apartment, full of hesitation. Desperate. Allthough fully aware of his feelings towards the doctor, the thought of her in danger tumbled him into darkness in a way he was unprepared for. This haunting dread, anger, jealousy, protectiveness. He knew he loved her. But this was IN LOVE with her. A wanting fueled by need and fear at the same moment. She stepped inside backwards, closing the door behind her in a smooth motion. Depositing keys into the odds-and-ends-bowl nearby. His breath caught from her mere presence, reasuring himself of her moderate well being by a lingering examination of her body. She was humming. He couldnt quite pick out the tune, frowning. She flicked on the lights, in the same instant he recognised her toneless can-can. He smiled._

_"Michael!" She half gasped, assuming the voice of someone who wanted nothing more than to raise their voices in a situation they knew shouldnt be heard. His smile dropped...  
"You... what... HERE!" stage whispered her treacherously emotional voice as she slid into the room further, back to a wall. Michael wrung his hands, unable to look at her as he stepped forward cautiously. Fumbling against a side table for reasons she wasnt even sure of she stared at him. Searching for a weapon or seeking support?  
"Sara..." _

_Her name seemed to echo in the silence..._

_"I needed to tell you... that is, I didnt mean to..."_

_She took two strides forward and resolutely slapped him across the face with all her strength._

_A pregnant pause filled the room, as they met each others gaze less than a foot apart._

_"...I ...deserved that I think"_

_"Yes. You did." she replied hardly waiting for him to finish his sentence. His face blurred to her vision as he began..._

_"Im so sor..."_

_Bruising them both she cut him off forcefully. Hot tears tracing their combined lips as a sudden need overtook them both. To combine, to explore, the need for more. Gripping the top of his neck firmly with both hands to draw him as close as humanly possible she shuddered as his arms encircled her. He drew his lower lip across hers, maddeningly softly as muscles strained, crashing together. She ran shaking palms down his neck, outlining his collarbone with her thumbs, skimming his shoulders and upper arms as their kiss intensified. She needed to feel more of him, these parts she knew, even if it was doctor patient. So painfully wonderful. She brought her elbows together against him running her hands down his chest to find it cold and metallic._

_Wait what..._

_She stepped back as his shirt opened of its own accord, revealing a crude lightening bolt logo and shiny panel. A battery stood in front of her, questioning with Michael's voice "Sara...?"_

_The battery/michael flashed in front of the fruit and vege aisle. He acted out checking a price tag, head bowed low before disappearing down the next row. Moments before, she was sure he'd been watching. Now she stared at the lurid colours of the battery display as she rode towards it on an ocean of oranges._

_..._

She held her hands against her eyes as she sat up. Morning sticking under her skin like cruel barbs of light.  
"This is exactly why I avoided psychology..." she muttered to the dust swirling through the air around her. Rubbing her eyes vigourously she swung her legs off the bed to monitor the damage. A bloodshot blackeyes returned her gaze in the bathroom mirror. She had forgotten to remove her mascara the day before... Ruffling her hair a little she stepped out into the hallway to pick up her mail she sighed;  
"_Wonderful. Im a panda. A panda who has sex dreams about batteries..."  
_Smiling at her neighbour it occured to her that she wasnt at all certain if she thought that or said it aloud and slammed her door. She slid down against the other side of her door, head in hands once more. Trying desperately to block out the beginning of her dream she worked on bringing the end into focus. Michael. Look down. Price check. Hat tilt. Walk away. Ignore the oranges. She knocked her head against the solidity of the wood behind her. That part was real. The leak in her resolve was becoming a flood, what if she wasnt insane, what if reality WAS insane. Conspiracy, Lincoln's innocence. She believed in it, believed in _him_ enough to leave the door open that night. She still believed it.

A knock on the door caused her to levitate breifly before swinging around to open the door, upon a rather startled looking fed-ex employee.  
"That was quick sweetheart! Must be an important parcel eh?" He winked  
She faked a small laugh as she signed messily, stammered her thanks and closed the door. Sliding the chain across gave her time to think before carrying the toaster sized box to her unmade bed. _Whats the worst that can happen..._

A cap. She knew it was from him. For one thing, who the hell else would send her something that made her sit there offering flies a home. For another, it was the hat Mr Battery price check had been wearing. She shook the box with an edge of discovery. Just a hat. What does a hat say. "_Oh great, you saw me, now I have to get a new hat"?, "You seemed to like my baseball cap the other day so I got you one just like it!"_ If possible more frustrated she put the hat on, pulled it low over her eyes, considering trying to remember the other part ot that dream. A car door slammed in the distance making her blink her eyes lazily inside the hat. She admired the specks of sunlight seeping through the fabric like stars. She could almost imagine numbers.

"_There's a plan to make this all right_"

" . .. .. .. . . .. .. . ... . .. ... ... ."

She leapt up as though electrified, crashed the curtains closed, stubbed her toe in the dimmed light as she made her way to her desk lamp and hastily inverted the hat over the top. _As though looking at it from the inside... _just as her eyes had almost adjusted to the gloom she pierced it with the artifical blaze. Pinpricks of white now stood out clearly from the padded cap front, just above the peak. Numbers.

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Knowledge**

A paper snow storm had taken over. A tapping foot rustled through the mess as she chewed a loose string from her sleeve. Too long for a date, not an area code, corresponding letters of the alphabet... no. She looked up for the dozenth time at the origami tulip now sitting back in pride of place on her bedside table. _Maybe part of it is a phone number... _she rummaged for her phone to compare it to the call she recieved before realising not only was the number form the hat too long but the call was from "blocked ID". Phone in hand she stared with wonderment at the keys. The simplicity of it. 2-abc 3-def... _but how to tell which letter... THE DOTS._

She jotted down the resulting information _Of course he planned it... he planned everything... _her stomach twisted as this reminded her, he planned her too.  
"_It was real Sara... you and me... It was real." _She couldnt think of that.

An address across town. But there wasnt enough dots to cover all the numbers. Three more numbers. Adding a simple slash, it became a week from today. _Was he watching her now? measuring her reaction the same was he observed everything else in life... meticulous... yet his misjudgements came to a point when he escaped... what if she hadnt left the door open... he "didnt plan on you..." What did that mean... was he nearby? Watching?_  
She glanced at the dying light outside and the sheer drop of the side of her apartment. _Not unless hes spiderman..._ she mused circling the date over and over.

A week later she stood dumbstruck in the driveway of suburbia. A dodgy motel, an alleyway, abandoned warehouse with a shadowy figure or note hidden away inside. These she expected. Not two toddlers racing about a minefield of brightly coloured plastic. She stepped onto the path to the front door at funeral pace. _How can he be connected to this, is he hiding in plain sight? Did I read the code wrong? WAS there a code? Was it some unrelated barcode information added by a store?  
_Halfway up the path a young woman in a flour smudged pair of jeans came to the doorframe in perfect time to seize one of the toddlers on his way past and swing him up into a hug, smiling at Sara with sincerity, who hesitantly returned the gesture.

"How old?" she found herself asking  
"Terrible two's just short of even _more_ terrible threes!" she growled playfully tickling her captive before setting him on his way. "So you're the florist?"

"The florist." Sara repeated trying not to sound too questioning.

"He said you'd be by today. The tulip lady." she grinned sheilding her eyes from the sun to examine her better, "I said I'd be working here, regular gig with the little terrors while their parents catch a break, so he said he'd send you here..." the woman trailed off noting the slightly bemused lost expression on Sara's face and began to frown.

"Uhm, yeah thats me. Sorry... just caught of guard by being called "the tulip lady"..." Sara forced a small laugh. The smile returned to the womans face.

"Nicknames can be weird, but mostly affectionate!" she nodded with a giggle ducking her head inside and retrieving a dark green envelope. "Here you go! He said it'd be everything you need in there. You'd think he'd have just given it to you before he left, but I suppose last minute planning. Boring stuff!"

Sara reached for the envelope but the other end wasnt released.

"Hey listen..."

"Mhmm?" Sara replied trying desperately not to tug at the folder and run.  
"My sister is getting married early next year. You got a card or something? Least Mr. Crane can do is share! even if he was a great tutor Im not a free messager service, Im a nanny!" she teased with an invitation to join in on the joke in her voice. Adopting her proffesional doctor voice Sara calculated her answer.  
"Thats wonderful! Unfortunately its... a rather small business and were fully booked for quite a while" she said apologetically as she slowly drew the folder towards her, the baby sitter thankfully didnt resist its release.

"Damn. Oh well good luck with Mr Crane's wedding! Such a shame about him, the lookers are always take... No Aaron! Thats a snail! ICKY! no!" she ran off after her charge as Sara threw a casual thanks over her shoulder on her way to her car.

Starting the ignition she muttered... "Mr. Crane huh..."

...

Reisting opening that folder in the car was almost as bad as her morphine withdrawal. She told herself she just wanted answers to her questions, to get this over with. Not to have something that had been near him, hear what he had to say, be involved. A long traffic light was enough to "accidently" move the elastic allowing the cardboard to open and see a colour-pencil sketch of the flower he gave her. _Pretty close to a tulip I suppose... _Under the tulip was "Bathroom Floral Arrangements, (Bedroom to remain undecorated)"  
For some reason this made her rather uneasy... its meaning seemed clear to her conspiring brain. Someone was watching her bedroom. Bathroom was safe, read these in there. Checking her rearview far more times than neccesary she hastily shoved the folder in her thankfully large handbag at the next stop light.

Feeling like a character in a very forced play, she acted out her plan of making taking her bag to the bathroom seem normal. Sneaking around never seemed this obvious when she was using... that was daunting. She hoped she was better at acting than she suspected... She entered the apartment, threw her bag onto the bed and sat down with a sigh. Stretched a bit and made her way into the bathroom, closing the door. Shaking the contents of a tampon box into a drawer she strode out of the bathroom making a big deal out of crumpling the empty box and throwing it across the room. She picked up her hand bag and hunched over it, searching, while walking back into the bathroom with it in hand. Triumphant, she waited a few minutes then trudged back out, aquired a fresh towel for her "shower" and locked herself amoungst the tiles. _Nice... comfy... tiles... _she sighed to herself turning the water on and trying to get settled against the cuboard beneath the sink.

The next two pages after the "warning cover page" detailed some tulip species, and current bathroom decoration trends. This both confirmed her thoughts that it was instructions to be in here, and made her wonder if he thought he should rant on about it for a while in case she didnt get it. Vote of confidence... Five exceeding dull pages later she was wondering how this was relevant and considering giving up when she reached a paper crane tucked between pages 9 and 10 of 23. It was taped folded up for extra measure. Carefully dismantling it the inside read:

_S,_

_It means alot to me that you're looking into this project. I know my sketches aren't the best, but the flower I described, it was real. If you're ready to confirm our booking for the last sunday, double check with the botanical gardens. They should remember me. If all goes well you can get rid of that horrible vase and buy yourself a nicer one!_

_- Crane_

Always coded. So hidden, but so simple you feel idiotic to not get it sooner. _Means alot to me... _SURE it does... _the flower I described, it was real... _It was real... those words again..._ last sunday, _THE last sunday... of the year? time was going so fast and so slow at the same time since the escape; I suppose it wasnt far off... _botanical gardens...should remember me._ What, wander around asking for Mr Crane?..._ get rid of that horrible vase... _Bedroom bug is in the vase but dont remove it yet.

Ripping all but the crane into flushable confetti, all she could think of was the montage she veiwed so often while struggling free of her overdose... every maddening touch... things said with eyes like blue steel and hidden smiles... finding her birthday flower... but most of all her name. In greeting, in pain, in husky whisper... How did she feel about Michael Scofield. Then and now. Thoughts of him burned, hot with the passion of their stolen kiss. Boiling with jealousy seeing his "wife", and the blistering of anger of lies. Scalded by the injustice of innocent men sentenced to die, and of being _used_ to stop it. Flaming hope, a rescue in dire moments, a hand from above. Breath stolen by his profile. Hate. Hate for him, what he did, what hes doing, what she's been dragged into. Hate for herself wanting to believe in him, hate for how convincing his lies were, hate for the brother that inspires such feverent love in someone so intelligent. Hate for the unknown people making her feel watched in her own bedroom. He was fire. The core of the hottest flame, blue... just like his eyes...

...


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: This may be dying a little in length per chapter at this stage cause natural cut offs are just natural cut offs... I dont write for word limits, so they end up uneven. ALL NIGHTER MARATHON *writes writes***

**Chapter Three: Moth**

_Moths are drawn to light, mistaking it for the moon, their means of navigation... _Sara recited to herself as she tucked her dark red scarf more firmly around her in the chill air. _Except sometimes its a flame. A candle. A campfire. It burns them out but theyre still drawn to it. Or by that particular shade of blue... _His eyes loomed in her minds vision... _like a BUG ZAPPER, and they DIE for being stupid enough to be drawn in! _she kicked at a piece of bark that had fallen onto the paved way throughout the botanic gardens, hands in pockets to hide her nerves. _Why was she here! at least, if you went to the blue light you were put out of your misery..._

Sara wandered aimlessly with no appreciation in her mind for the winter flowers that surrounded her. She turned and took a set of steps to join up with another path just as she saw something that made her heart stop. Stop and wrap around her lungs and convulse with one massive beat before returning to its place beating twice the speed. That hat. She missed her step and slipped as the man in the baseball cap dropped what he was holding and raced to help her.

"Are you ok ma'am?" worried the hatted man as she stared and surpressed gasps at his eye colour, hair, and age. _Not him, its not him. Calm down, not him._

"Yes... fine... Im s...sorry. Can I ask what hat that is you're wearing? the emblem is familiar..."

"Uniform o'course. Groundskeepin' " He replied bewildered "You sure you're ok there?"

"Im fine, thank you for your concern. Just... slippery weather. I might go sit down for a bit"

"You watch your footin' out here or you'll turn an ankle. Cafe just roun' there for a break and somethign warm if you like. Gift shop too" He pointed as he retreived a rake and bucket from the ground still looking her up and down as she headed for the indicated path.

_This is ridiculous, tulips are out in spring. No cranes. No wedding. What am I looking for... _

_...THAT, Im looking for that. _

Nestled against the various modern black-and-white city photographs, flower and event information posters papering the walls of the cafe was a large blue and white vase covered in cranes in a glass case. She ordered a hot chocolate and wondered whether she was going to need to smash the case or something equally obsurd. Nice vase seemed like a good start...

"Lovely vase" Sara commented to the waitress as she accepted her drink, "Is there a story behind it?" _or am I just seeing things everywhere! _she wanted to add.

"Some rich guy donated it, meant to be valuable or something because they go on about how he said he's giving it away because things went well for him. Not my taste really. They got mini ones in the gift shop though if you like it" she gestured over her shoulder as she walked away. _When Michael Scofield plans something he REALLY plans something _she mused, demolishing her hot chocolate in small quick sips.  
_If all goes well you can get rid of that horrible vase and buy yourself a nicer one!  
_There were two styles, dark blue with white details or white with dark blue details. "Limited stock! This weekend only!" _Subtle..._ she chose the former, and sick of stomping through the slush, took a taxi home, bubble-wrapped vase in hand.

Aprehensively she brushed her windswept hair and put it into a ponytail. Made a small business of hanging up her damp coat and shoes to dry and unwrapping the vase. _How would he even know if she replaced the vase. Was he the one watching her from the current shelf-occupant? _No that was silly, why would Michael hide his folder from himself. Was there even anything in it. _Didnt really like the vase anyway... _swaddling the old vase in a teatowel she smashed it, keeping the lump it contained covered as she cleared away shards of ceramic. Finally, thumb over the lens, it really was a little camera. Even already assuming this was true she felt twice as invaded, watched, betrayed. She hurled the new vase at the door with a satisfying crack, crying some of the hatred out as she rocked on the edge of her bed, keeping a resolute seal on the tiny technilogical invader she might not have even noticed on her own. With all the fierceness she could put into such a tiny task she tore at the casing and cords until the tiny red light winked out of existance.

Nothing happened.

...

What did she think would happen, it would blow up? She'd be kidnapped by masked government suits? be framed for murder like Lincoln? be reprimanded and punished by vase enthusiasts? She sat there zoning out for about an hour as the room became dark around her, the natural light filtering through from the lounge fading, running through scenarios of seeing him again... waiting. A scrape from her front door brought her to tense and complete wakefulness. Creeping down the hall she caught sight of an envelope and sighed her frustration. It wasnt over! _That... SCOFIELD is going to get an earful when im done with him..._ she tore into the envelope. A hotel door key... a receipt for said room paid in full for three days... "A chance at quiet... we pride ourselves on peace and privacy" _If he thinks...! _heat rose to her cheeks, a combination of anger and memories of some of the things _she_ had imagined in a hotel room with Michael..._ Three days! ...I'll go and tell him where he can shove his door key! and if he doesnt give me some answers... _"There are answers to your questions... Sara... Sara... Ssaarrraaa..." She slammed her apartment door against the echos of his voice that haunted her and drove into the night. _Last chance Scofield..._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am totally in love with the fact that in my story manager the cover pic of Michael/Wentworth looking upwards confused & sad looks directly at the title. Like hes going WTF does that word mean. I do hope it does that in the proper one when people find this story. Review and tell me! Last of my prewritten chapters over the last day, longest one so far, continues writing NOW...no wait NOW!**

**Chapter Four: The Quiet**

It really was quiet. She remarked as much to the receptionist as she entered the middle class hotel, not even the traffic right outside the door came through the glass doors.

"Thats our motto!" a horribly cheerful man beamed framing the "quiet!" sign behind him with his hands. "People are funny, moving to the city, and loving it! ...but always just wanting that _tiny_ night or two without honk honk this and siren that!" he chuckled, gesticulating all the while, offering to show her to the room. Not requesting anything of her other than to see her key, and a suspicious lack of concern at her absent baggage "A LOT of repeat business, we have one _very_ high profile CEO who rents the smallest room. And we asked him, Mr... oh no cant tell you who he is..." He winked like knowing was the most wonderful thing in all the world. Sara simply raised her eyebrows as this strange little man tore at her very serious day untill she was concerned someone spiked her hot chocolate earlier.  
"...why do you rent the smallest room? and he says, "to yell in it!" He laughed and opened the door showing Sara inside a surprisingly empty room.

"Wouldnt that bother the other patrons?" she frowned.

"Soundproofing." he winked, "how do you think were so blissfully silent!" He launched into a brief explanation of the stereo and "noisemaker" (You'd think you were in the very ocean itself!) and left her to it.

She glanced around the resonably decorated room, not too fancy, not too plain. ("Its all about the quiet!") She tried not to think of the thing that bedrooms rented with "silenced" as their selling point brought to mind. Some of the scenarios she had experienced while still working at Fox River started somewhat nightmarish... but somehow still... as many dreams of a certain inmate did... ended up almost disturbingly pleasant. So much on one occasion the next day she froze, lost in thought listening to his breathing... eyes locked so similarly to her dream...

...

_A hand reached down from the ceiling amidst the smoke, light amoung the darkness. Eyes streaming she threw aside her make-shift glass knife and strove to climb to him. They climbed through the ceiling, through mazes of wall. "Why are you up here... risking your life for me?" ... "You needed my help..."_

_..._

_"You seem to know your way around up here... how DO you know your way around up here?" she blinked up at him._

_He blinked. Once. Twice.  
"One of the first assignments I did on PI. Cleaning out toxic mould."_

_"I hope you wore masks..."_

_..._

_"No where is safe, one of the CO's dropped his keys. Teabag has them. They can get anywhere and everywhere. Theres a chance they havent gotten to the infirmary yet, most of the phone lines are gone by now but..." He trailed off_

_"...Michael?"_

_"Uhm... yeah but theres a chance theres enough doors between here and there theyll have run off after other things for a while. Hopefully. We have to get you out of here" he attempted a smile._

_"W..why only hopefully? Theres lots of things that inmates want right...? we'll have plenty of time!"_

_"Sure." he said, falsely cheerful, before turning away from her an continuing up ahead. A heat entered his voice that made her shiver. "They want lots of things. But not as much as they all want you..."_

...

_He jumped down with surprising grace, offering his support to her descent. His hands slid up her waist and lingered around her until she turned her face aside with quiet thanks. He let his hands fall, and they searched the room for anything useful._

_"Its no good theyve cut the power and the phones from outside as well now." He slammed the desk with a previously unknown anger. Leaning on both arms against the desk. Shocked by seeing this side of him, she stepped over and lay a hand on his shoulder which he shrugged off. "Don't"  
"Michael I..."  
"I wont let them get you!...I wont let them... just... DON'T ok?"_

_"But It...Its OK. The CO keys cant get into the exam room, only the medical staff keys can! We'll go in there and... and find some way to block the windows and no one will know were in there until someone can come in and get me..." She pushed him into the exam room more to convince herself than anything. He pulled the blinds on the windows that had them... very slowly._

_"Michael..." he turned his head at the sound of his name then returned to his blinds._

_"Just ... hurry Sara. I dont trust these guys as far as I could throw a Semi."_

_She lined up medical privacy screens as best she could and locked the door.  
"And now... well I guess we just wait" she turned with a hesitant smile to find his arms against the door on either side of her "M...M-Michael?"  
He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against hers, lowering one hand to tuck an escaping strand of hair behind her ear._

_"Do you really not know..." he whispered as her heart quickened._

_"Know what Michael?" she tried to sound firm. Use a normal serious tone. Like she needed to defend herself somehow but the sheer feeling behind his words shook her. He laughed softly and still in that whisper that you HAD to catch every word of he continued._

_"Do you not know..." he raised his voice suddenly demanding "HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW!"_

_"What Michael?" she gasped as he turned her slightly aside from the door, pressed up against the desk as it cut into the back of her thighs._

_"What you DO to me... here like this..." his voice softened again.  
She hardly dared to breathe as he slowly cradled the back of her neck and kissed her. She couldnt think, but she was losing her balance. Instinctually she made a move to adjust how she was standing and a split second later his hand gripped her leg hard enough to bruise and lifted her onto the desk. Her breath caught as he pulled her to him, moving her legs to either side, pressing against her. She made a soft, strangly involuntarily noise as the heat between them intensified, his soft moan in response feathering across her lower lip. Suddenly he was more aggresive, pawing at her, pushing her lower on the desk, a pen dug into her hip...  
"Michael... MICHAEL!... please... no... not like this... I... Michael! I..." she gasped, pushing between them, as he sucked warmth to the surface of her neck below her ear. Inhaling sharply she started beating at his chest halfheartedly... a struggling noise halfway between a grunt and sob drew him out of his intensity. Lowering his arms to his sides and backing away from her as she slid to the base of the desk wrapping her arms around her. He stared horrified at the tears on her cheeks. He seized the desk chair and hurled it against the opposite wall, and began to pace, hands on top of his head as he regarded the ceiling. _

_After a few moments he crouched near her, reaching out to touch her inner arm._

_"S.."_

_She jerked away from his touch. He exhaled a deep breath he was unaware of holding._

_"S-sara... please" He reached again, his voice cracked as he said her name. The brokeness of his please made her unable to move away but she looked aside, avoiding his eyes._

_"How can you... how can I..." he sighed. "For you maybe its not... but... you've got to believe me when I say how HARD it is to have some one like you," He raised his hand as though to brush her cheek but stopped and returned it to her wrist. Drawing circles with his thumb on the inner sides soft skin "...someone as beautiful as you around."  
She made a small undefinable huffing noise that he chose to ignore._

_"That would be bad enough but..." He took a deep breath as he paused "You're also intelligent... and compassionate..." heat crept back into his voice "Sara..."_

_She slowly rose up from her arms and glanced at his face quickly. That was a mistake. Every smouldering touch was embodied in that broken moment, in how he said her name like he was caressing it... she could barely hear him now as he sat down in front of her._

_"Sara... you're just... everything..." he slid his hand down her wrist and grabbed her hand tightly. He captured her eyes... she couldnt look away... emboldened he continued._

_"And then were here, like this, I was so worried they would get to you" He frowned and covered the mark on her neck with his free hand, "and then you tell me we're alone, that no one can get in, that we're stuck here, TOGETHER" he grasped her hand harder for emphasis "...Until they can come and rescue you?..." He was quiet for a long time before he continued.  
"I really am... so sorry... Sara... uhm... Doctor Tancredi..." he cleared his throat awkwardly and released her hand "I guess I was just carried away... imagining things...Yeah," he let out a small mirthless laugh. "Yeah... you should totally have listened to me that first day when I told you to trust me..." drawing his knees up, he leant his elbows on them hands clasped in front, head bowed. _

_Their long silence was punctuated by bangs and shouts in the distance... things they almost did weighing heavy on their minds. She definitly... DEFINITLY didnt want to... well... not like that. She was very possesive of her right to decide and the abandon of it terrified her... almost... almost like using... his touch. Wonderfully out of control, his compact heat had brushed against her... she wasnt even sure if she...  
A long, much closer clang made her jump._

_"I can go back up, into the ceiling, if you're ok here Doc. You'll..." He swallowed "Be safe in here like you said and I can go back with the other inmates..."_

_"We should get further away from the screens. If we bump them they'll know we're in here" she interrupted him, scooting to the centre of the room near the base of the exam bed. His eyebrows clashing together at her use of "we" he cautiously followed suit. Sitting side by side, legs out in front of them, she grabbed his hand without looking at it.  
"And its Sara. Sara will do just fine." she said facing off the other way, and then sneaking a glance at his face. He smiled slightly. The ten years he seemed to have added in those last few moments shedding as she watched. Her eyes glittered in response to his smile, causing his to sharpen._

_"Don't do that" he said painfully breaking eye contact with a sigh and hitting his head repetitively against the bed behind them._

_"What?"_

_He turned to glare at her to find her trying to dip the corners of her mouth to hide a smile before turning away. His look of pain intensified.  
"Give me __**hope **like that__." she met his eyes at "hope" then glanced to his lips, then searched from eye to eye. Breathing quietly heavier she raised a shaky hand to his rapidly beating chest for a moment as he looked confused. She grasped his hand and brought it to where hers had lay a moment before covering it with her own. She shyly leant towards him, glancing upward. Hardly believing his apparent luck he bowed his head, pausing for a long time at the tiniest of distances before their lips met once more. She broke the kiss, rubbed their entwined hands to her cheek, and then hesitated. Eyelids heavy he drank in the sight of her as she brought their hands to her own drumming heartbeat. Attempting to lighten her voice with a laugh she mock scolded in a whisper "Hope! Dont you know what you do to me Scofield?"_

_That was it. Her fingers dug into his chest and he crushed her to him, never close enough, grasping. He lavished pent up attention on her mouth, swallowing her sighs as she let go of them. His hands on her waist he traced the hem of her pants with his thumb and suddenly drew back... she indignantly grabbed at his clothing in return making him intake sharply and grab her hands..._

_"I thought..."_

_"Shut **up** Michael." she ordered sternly claiming his lower lip gently in her teeth._

_Replacing his hands on her waistband he slid his hand upwards and removed her shirt as she tried to comply while attempting to stand so her quest on his pants could be fufilled. He lifted her scarcely more gently that last time onto the exam bed as it span lengthways against the far wall. The seam of her grey pants ripped slightly near the knee in their haste, frenzied and desperate in time stolen from the rest of the world. They crashed together, as she fumbled with the last resistance of his pants. Grinding together he impatiently pushed the interferance aside with his hand as she grabbed at his shoulders. She moaned barely audibily as his finger slid torturously inward. Curling up to firmly press against her core. She panted softly as he barely moved, all the while carressing the mark he'd left on her neck softly with his lips. As she adjusted and began to writhe in impatience he picked up speed to a still slow but steadily constant pace, making sure each withdrawal brushed against her... but only barely. Raising his other hand to cup her beneath her remaining upper cover, he softly pinched at the same time as he gripped her neck with his teeth once more. Breath exploded from her and she dug her nails beneath his shirt, never enough. When she began to take small mewling breaths with each and every touch he pulled the lacy barrier aside to fufil them both. Barely, even with just a start all they could do was cling and gasp for a moment, bracing each other as they said everything and nothing with their eyes. Then his eyes closed as he buried his face in her collar bone, her arms around his neck as they slid to full completeness. An age that was barely a second in reality they remained still before they strained once more, she pulled him inwards with her legs around his hips, driving him on. _

_"Hey hey! GUYS! the Infirmary!"_

_They suddenly froze in desperate silence, amoungst the clangs of inmate demolition in the not-so-far distance. Her eyes wide with fear, self-concious of how much noise they, mostly she, had been making. He lifted her higher on his hips backing away from the exam bed, the unexpected depth leaving her panting._

_More clangs in the outer rooms, he took advantage of an extended ringing sound to take a large step sideways to pin her against the wall itself, covering the medical posters with her body and her soft screams with his hand. The door rattled. He looked deep into her widening eyes and locked his hand into place over her mouth very deliberately, one finger at a time as the door rattled again. He brought them together again and again at a relentless pace and as she neared the edge he brought both hands to hold her in place leaving her to smother her own outcries into his shoulder, the pace began to toll on them both as she tetered over the edge into freefall. He dragged the last few strokes to their limit before driving them home, hard. As she shook with release he gave her everything..._

_..._

She had to drop his gaze! His eyes seemed to melt into her like they knew exactly what she had been thinking in that moment, in that pause after requesting him to breathe. He replaced his shirt and hopped down. She stood dimly clutching at her stethoscope as he grinned "Thanks Doc" and left.

...


End file.
